5 Stages
by Negative Space Squint
Summary: SPOILER WARNING: Brennan's journey through the 5 stages of grief as she copes with Booth's amnesia.


**Yes, I'm jumping on the bandwagon... how can I call myself a true participant of the bonesverse if I don't add my contribution of the Finale Flood of Fanfiction? ^_^;; This is very rough; just a oneshot that wouldn't leave me alone and let me work on a new multi-chaptered fic I'm starting (also post-finale!) So yeah :D All who read should be familiar with the 5 Stages of Grief -- hope you like! **

**--- **

"_Who are you?"_

**Denial.**

This wasn't happening. It just wasn't. This was some sort of sick joke. It had to be. She gasped disbelievingly, expecting him to break out in a smile, or jump up and claim her in a "guy hug."

But he didn't.

He just laid there, with that confused, mistrustful gaze. The kind he used to give suspects, when he was trying to get into their heads, or see what was in their hearts.

_You don't have to try, Booth! You know what's in my heart; you always have!_

"You're going to wake up from this," she had told him, grabbing his hand like a vice, as though each ounce of pressure was another memory she could bring back. He just kept staring, with those eyes that she had always been able to see right through.

"Just say my name," she pleaded, "and your memory will come back. You DO know who I am, dammit! Say my name, Booth!"

For a split-second, she thought she saw a flash of recognition. He mumbled something too low for her to hear, though it sounded faintly like "the dream."

"…Bren?" he asked, almost hopefully. He had never looked more like a child.

She wrestled back a sob as she slowly let go of his hand. Sound ceased to exist; it was just the roar of blood in her ears. All she could see was the broken man she loved.

**Anger**

It wasn't until Angela had rushed into the room that she realized she was shouting. Doctors rushed past her in a streak of blue and white scrubs. She found her wrists being grabbed by her best friend, and was tugged into the hallway.

"Sweetie, calm down, come on, it's gonna be okay," Angela chanted, trying to control her friend.

"Why, Angela? Why would this happen? Haven't I been through enough? Hasn't _he_ been through enough? Why don't we deserve to be happy?!" she shrieked.

"Come on, Bren, you know-"

"_My name is not Bren!_"

"Alright, Sweetie, just calm down. At least he woke up. At least he's _alive._"

Her breathing slowed a tiny bit; though it was still hard and erratic. She looked into the room where she had spent the last four days, the room where she had realized she loved him. Doctors formed a halo around his bed, some asking questions as others measured his vitals. He was finally the one to inquire – his curious gaze sought out her wildly flushed face as his mouth formed the words she wished she couldn't read.

_Who is she?_

**Bargaining**

She sat there, going over the impossible negotiations in her mind as the day staff changed to the night staff again.

_God, if you even do exist, you need to listen to me. We both know I've never had faith in you. But I have faith in Booth, and I am asking you this for him. Please, please give him his memories back. Take mine if you have to, I don't care. Just don't do this to him. He's already been through so much.._

"Dr. Brennan?" a voice asked. She came out of her reverie slowly as she registered Angela whispering "Don't call her Brennan."

She looked up to see Sweets standing in front of her, gazing at her with a lost look she was sure was mirrored on her own face.

"Sweets, is there anything that can help him? Anything I can do to jog his memory?" she asked helplessly.

He glanced at Angela quickly before kneeling down to her as if she was a child.

"I know this is hard, Dr. Brennan, but…"

"I don't need your sympathy," she spat, standing up quickly. "If there's nothing I can do, just say it!"

Sweets sighed and nodded to himself.

"All I can encourage is that you walk him through the regular routine of his day. His mind may recognize the settings and the memories could very well come back to defend the mind against the overwhelming amount of dissonance he must be feeling," he replied, watching her warily.

"Sweetie, why don't you go home and get some sleep? You haven't left this hospital in four days," Angela reminded her gently.

"No, Angela, I'm staying until they let Booth go as well. We spent… we spent a lot of time together before this, and Sweets told me we need to get him back into his usual routine."

Angela just gazed at her friend sadly.

"I'm not leaving."

She turned and walked back to his room, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. She made no move to erase them.

**Depression**

Three days. The complete tests on Booth took three days. And it was three days she spent pacing outside his room, entering every time he was alone, only to find that he was still out of reach. He kept calling her "Bren" – he used it so naturally, almost as when he called her Bones. The name filled her with heartbreak. This was a nickname created by some phantom of _her_ Booth.

Dr. King had met with her outside Booth's room on the third day, explaining in hushed tones that he did not remember anything from the last five years of his life. He would need to be eased into this, he explained, but it was most likely not temporary. The memories were to come back in a matter of weeks, or possibly even months. She choked back a sob at the word.

_Temporary._

Dr. King left, obviously having seen more than his fair share of crying loved ones of his patients. She glanced through the blinds into his room, where he was staring at her curiously. She sniffled slightly and realized with a jolt that she had still not properly spoken to him other than their confusing conversation before her blowup. She entered the room timidly and closed the door carefully before turning to look at him.

"You've lost the memories from the past five years of your life," she told him, knowing full well how audible the wobble in her voice was. He was silent for a moment, but gave her a familiar searching look that had, up until the past year, always made her a bit uncomfortable. Finally, his eyes turned to sadness.

"You were important to me. I don't like seeing you sad," he admitted.

She said nothing, just felt the tears rise up again.

"Did we love each other?" he asked, staring past her tears, until she felt like he could see her soul. She remembered hitting that delete button on her would-be confession, and promising herself that if he was to wake up, she was going to do it the right way.

"You used to teach me about love. Or, at least, try to. I'm… very stubborn," she replied. Confusion clouded his face.

"We were partners," she told him, choosing to defer his question. "We worked at the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian Institute in DC. You're a Special Agent, and we've been partners for four years."

"Just partners?" he asked.

She did not attempt to stop the tears that were freely flowing down her cheeks as she answered.

"…Yes."

Before he could respond, a nurse bustled in with a new IV and quickly changed it with the one he previously had attached to himself.

"Dr. King says that he needs you to stay one more night before you go home, Agent Booth," she told him. He nodded and she left the room. Brennan knew she could not stay without completely breaking down. She turned to leave.

"Wait," Booth asked hesitantly. Her hand was on the doorknob as she turned.

"…Yes?" she asked breathlessly. He appeared to be struggling with something. Could he be…?

"…Could you stay with me? Tonight? I don't want to be alone," he admitted, "and it seems like we were pretty close partners. I feel better when… you're around."

She gulped past the lump in her throat and nodded, knowing she could not say no.

"Of course. Anything you need," she replied. She took residence in the chair next to his bed. He carefully reached for her hand, a question in his eyes. Her only reply was to take his hand within her own.

"Get some rest. You'll need it to get your memories back," she told him. He nodded and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Bren," he whispered.

She closed her eyes slowly, focusing on nothing but the steady sound of his breathing while he slept.

"Goodnight, Booth."

A tear squeezed past her closed eyelid, landing on their entwined hands.

**Acceptance**

He had woken up first. She opened her eyes cautiously to see his frustrated gaze upon her. She recognized the look – it was the same as when he would insist that he could feel the name of the killer on the tip of his tongue, and just wait, it'll come to me. She felt her eyes turn hopeful, looking for some flash of recognition.

There was nothing.

She sighed and got up quietly. His eyes never left her face.

"I'll be back soon. I need to go tell the others what the doctors told me about your condition," she told him, feeling more awkward than she knew was possible around him.

"And then you'll be back?" he asked anxiously. She nodded.

She wasn't surprised to see the anxious ring of their friends in the waiting room. They rushed forward, no one speaking.

"He's lost five years. The doctors have cleared him to leave as long as he stays with someone until they say he can live on his own."

There was no question as to who he'd be staying with.

"And how are _you,_ Dr. Brennan?" Sweets asked pointedly.

She thought carefully before answering.

"I'm… better. I knew that there was a slight risk of this happening, and I'm happy he's alive. I know, _I know_, that if it were me laying there, having lost half a decade of my memories, that Booth wouldn't give up until I remembered, and I plan on giving him that same respect," she replied firmly.

"Sweetie… we can do this together, you know. I know this is going to hurt. You don't have to be the only one with this burden," Angela reminded her softly.

Brennan opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the same nurse who had changed Booth's IV the night before.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth is about to be discharged. He's been asking for you," she informed her. Brennan nodded, said thank you to the rest of the group, and left for Booth's room without another word.

_You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, that's the sad truth. Maybe they'll break your heart, maybe you'll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That's the burden._

_---_

**So? Thoughts? Feedback is my best friend. Also, a question for all of you -- I know we all have our favorite theories about the episode (though the two that are most popular, that I know of, are the book/dream theory and the timejump theory) What are yours? I have to go with the timejump! ^_^ Thanks for taking the time to read my fic! Enough of my rambling; y'all have some reviewing to do!**


End file.
